


Counting bodies like sheep

by AHuntersDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But not explicit, Co-dependent boys, Dean is 21, M/M, Sam is 17, Serial Killer Dean, Serial Killer Sam, Serial Killers, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, but nothing serious, insane!sam, there is violence, yet anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5850850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHuntersDream/pseuds/AHuntersDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have fun with a new toy, however short lived their play time is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting bodies like sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so before anyone says anything about not tagging it underage, in the UK the legal age is 16. Whilst I have obviously tagged the ages of both boys, this is just a warning. Nothing explicit happens, but it is implied that the boys are together. I really love serial killer AU's cause I'm a bad person, and I really want to turn this into a mini series. So tell me what you guys think, and we'll see what happens in the future. Further ado, thanks for reading!

Max ran. His footsteps echoed on the dank floor of the alley, the cold night time causing his breath to fog out in front of him. But he was growing weary, after all his predator had been chasing him for what seemed like an eternity, always there when he thought he had out run him, that crooked smug smile framed with plush lips, promising death, pain and general unpleasantness. Suddenly he stopped and Max felt his heart drop- a dead end. His blue eyes shifted, checking for any possible escape, begging and pleading to any deity out there to save him from his impending doom ...

A thud. Then another and another and another as the tall frame that had been chasing him around the city in a sick game of cat and mouse, entered the only source of light from a near by street lamp. Max swallowed, glanced up as blue met green, and slowly slide down the brick wall, shirt riding up and scraping his back. Death, it seemed, came in an overtly pretty package; tall and pale skin spattered with freckles, sly green eyes grinning with the promise of a soon dead body. What made it worse, Max thought, was that this charming stranger couldn't have been over twenty one.

Still a child.

The man, or boy really, lumbered forward with heavy steps that seemed forced, as if he was trying to scare Max even more. He probably was. The stranger gripped the long machete in his hand so hard, that his knuckles looked ready to burst through the worn skin.

And then there seemed to be a miracle occurring, as a third person entered the deserted alleyway, light footsteps almost dancing through the darkness. Max was to afraid to take his eyes off of his attacker, but watched in horror as the boy relaxed, instead of tensing as he had thought. A boy, and a real boy this time, entered Max's vision, long brown hair like a halo framing tan skin and fox eyes that watched in rapped fascination.

"De, what's taking so long?" The boy whined, head flopping to the side, a cruel and cold imitation of a young pup. The older boy, De, smirked as his free hand rested on the younger ones head, gently running his hand through the boys hair.

"Nothin', Sammy. This one had a bit of kick, is all." That said, De walked forward, graceful in the sudden presence of the boy. Max scrambled against the wall, wishing he could sink through it, hoping that if this was it, that it was quick oh please please _please let it be quick_ -

"Wait." The quiet word echoed through the alley, but the order was enough to stop De in his tracks. He looked over at Sammy, no confusion on his face, just concentration. Sam practically danced over, careful and slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. Max almost felt hopeful, looked up at the beautiful boy as his hazel, no rich brown, no dark, blue eyes softened. And then he spoke.

"That's my brother Dean." He said in mock sadness, pulling out a small knife from his pocket and twiddling the pointed edges between his fingers, not flinching at the break of skin on his thumb as blood ran down his hand. "My daddy isn't a nice man-" Dean let out a snort, but looked away at the glare Sam sent him. "As I was saying, he isn't a nice man. Cut us up pretty badly, beat us, bruised us. You name it, he's done it. But, sir, I think it made us who we are ya know?" Sam seemed in a rush to get his words out, as if trying to make Max understand, he has to understand  _why won't he understand_ -

"People are scared of weird things, like there's this phobia called trypophobia. It's the fear of clustered holes, weird right?" Sam let out a giggle, not warming Max's heart.

Suddenly, a dark shadow crossed across the boys face, and despite being unable to see this, behind him Dean grinned, brandishing the machete and watching it glint in the moonlight.

"But we know, right Dean? We know what's really in the dark, don't we? And we know how to kill it. Right Dean?"

"Right, Sammy." Dean assured his brother, coming closer to Max, caging him against the wall. Max screamed, as Sam brought his small knife down into his thigh, metal tearing, ripping through his flesh and muscle.

Immediately, he moved his hands to cover the wound, but Dean pressed his weapon against the fragile skin on his neck. "Ah ah ah." Dean tutted. Sam giggled, the sound cold and not at all the bright tinkling laugh of an innocent child. The older boy slowly dragged the blade up, up, up Max's face, cutting shallowly into the mans flesh as he screamed a dreadful scream.

"Please." He gasped. "I don't know what you want."

That stopped them. The boys looked at each other, a silent conversation between them that seemed to cause amusement, as they turned back to face Max once they were done communicating silently.

"Want? We don't want anything that you have." Dean laughed.

"We can just take anything we want." Sam agreed, before both boys closed in around Max, as he started praying again.

* * *

 

Sammy skipped joyfully down the dimly lit road, hand entwined with his brothers. He always felt free after a hunt, and whilst he never really enjoyed the chase, that was Dean's version of foreplay, he had to admit that there was something so beautiful, so gorgeous about his older brother in the midst of a hunt. Gone were the shackles of their daddy, and at those points in time, Dean solely belonged to Sam, and Sam only.

"That was fun, right Dean?" He smiled, all sharp teeth and blood. Dean smiled, a smile only for his beloved brother, and nodded. He drew the seventeen year old back, pulling him into his side and wrapping his arm around his neck. He pressed a kiss into Sammy's hair, smelling metallic blood, sweat and the sun. His younger brother cuddled into him, and stepped onto tiptoes to press their lips together- sweet, a juxtaposition to the body left in the dark alley.


End file.
